


taming the light

by sugarplumfairy, tsukishimmy



Series: slithered here from eden [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Breeding, Cock Worship, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Degradation, F/M, Hand Jobs, Improper use of your wife, Mind Break, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violent Sex, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarplumfairy/pseuds/sugarplumfairy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukishimmy/pseuds/tsukishimmy
Summary: After the battle at Rhalgr's Reach, Zenos and the Warrior of Light meet to negotiate their terms. They both get more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Zenos yae Galvus/Original Character(s), Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: slithered here from eden [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005129
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	1. Part one

**Author's Note:**

> This was broken into 2 chapters because it's converted from an rp
> 
> So enjoy round 1 and round 2. technically round 3 there's just a whole lot of fucking
> 
> this work was alternatively named "this fic pushed back feminism by 10 years"
> 
> join the bookclub :) https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic

The desert night is chilly, a safe haven from the usual relentless heat of the day. She wanders but is not lost; there is a tree split by lightning that she goes to—a place to meet. Never once in her life had she lost a fight. It bothers her; it keeps her awake. It is the itch that reminds her of the inadequate person she once was. Was she becoming that person again? 

A figure on the horizon, a shadow cut out by the moonlight. Immediately, she stands and swallows her fear. 

"Zenos."

She's so small. Much smaller than the way he'd reconstructed her in his memory, but whether that was a flaw in his remembrance or a flaw in his imagining of how she would grow, so different from him, he cannot say. 

It had been a thrill, fighting her- more of a thrill than he'd felt for a long while - but still, he finds himself disappointed. That she would give up so _easily._

He would expect it from anyone else, but from her? She, who was meant to be his equal in every way. Perhaps there is something he is missing, and even the thought of that thrills him. The possibility, however slim, of having been _outsmarted._

He hides this all beneath a veneer of impassivity. 

"Ifritah."

"Am I a fool to think we can come to an agreement?" 

Her heart could snap her ribcage from the violent thrum beneath it. But nonetheless, she reflects his expression all the same - perhaps there is the slightest hint of fear, of uncertainty. Her time with the Scions had loosened her tongue; she was no longer fit for political warfare.

"There must be something you wish for that we can arrange, in return for the removal of the Garlean occupation in Ala Mhigo?"

"Oh, there are many things that I wish for," he says. "None of them can be gained by giving up the chase. Not when I've already caught the scent of fresh blood." 

Ifritah, Ifritah. Always brash and forthcoming to a fault. His cold, dead heart almost feels the gentle strain of nostalgia.

"Besides," he continues. "It won't be long until I've exhausted the pleasure of those wishes. And then I'll be less one Ala Mhigo for my trouble." 

"There is not a foe I have not killed, Zenos. But I do not wish to kill you."

Infuriating, as always. That had not changed about him. It seems that it grew instead. "Despite being at the other end of this war, you are still my childhood friend. I do not wish to sully that with a feud that can be solved with words."

Against his own will, he feels his upper lip twitch, a reflexive action. "I assure you, I have no such qualms. And neither should you. A war is a war. A weapon does not have the luxury of choosing sides." 

The words leave his mouth, but something stings in their wake. Regret? The bitter taste of a lie?

"We are not weapons, Zenos. We are individuals, free of choice." She raises her brow at his suggestion. "If you are so steadfast in your decision, then come and kill me. If you truly feel nothing but bloodlust, not even the smallest hint of our time spent together, then strike me down." 

"And lose my favorite plaything?" he asks. "Haven't you heard the stories by now? You spend so much time among the mongrels. Surely they must have told you how I like to play with my food." 

He approaches her now, the slow and steady growl of a predator. "Surely you know me better than that."

She does not take a step back, despite her mind and body urging her to do so. "Zenos _please_ -"

Whatever mirth he'd felt from their duel of words, from the slash and parry and retreat - disappears in an instant when it's clear she does not intend to run.

Instead he closes the gap between them and snatches her chin between the pointed claws of his gauntlet. 

"Please. _What._ " he hisses.

Her hands wrap around his wrist the second she feels claws on her chin. Her mouth curls back with annoyance, canines on display. 

" _Cooperate. With me, Zenos._ For a moment, let go of your blood thirst and come to an agreement with me." She takes a shaky breath, disguised by bared teeth. "I will come back with you if you leave the rebellion alone." 

To say the proposition takes him by surprise would be an understatement. His glacial eyes snap down to where her fingers curl around him as he processes the words. 

A simple trade. Yes, that's what it is. A trade. A transaction. An acquiescence. 

He leans closer and makes no effort to hide the disgust he feels at the suggestion. "Now why would I do that, when I could stay my chosen course and watch you beg me to take you?"

Ifritah returns his disgust with her own. A stubborn, infuriating man.

"Simple. I will no longer fight with you if it is so. Do you think I care if people die by your hand?" Her grip tightens, and she smiles cooly. "I have a goal, I will do all I can to achieve it. I needn't the support of _anyone_."

Zenos straightens up as if shocked by her. He regards her with a carefully neutral expression. 

"You mean to say," he starts, "That if I destroy this futile Resistance, if I slaughter your so-called _friends,_ you will simply let me do it? No fight, no struggle..." 

_No joy in the hunt._ Oh, he could laugh. A clever and cruel gambit, but he could expect no less from her. Dare he call her bluff? Is there one to be called?

"I would. I am more ruthless than one would care to share with their fellow Eorzean." 

_Checkmate_ \- but the game is not finished. Not yet. She had called his bluff, and he may push her to see how far she could bend. But she would not back down. 

"Or you accept my offer. I come back with you and we can spar and hunt to your heart's content, as long as the Resistance is left unbothered." 

He does laugh, then, but it's neither a happy sound nor a pleasant thing to hear. "So these are my choices, then?" he asks, a question into the desert night and not for the ears of the woman beside him. "Either no hunt at all or the _indignity_ of a mere sparring match every once in a while?" 

He pushes her back, pins her against the tree with a sneer. "I think I don't care much for those choices. I'd prefer to make a third option."

She grunts when she hits the wall, facade cracking beneath the pressure of his words. He was calling her bluff - of course he was. "What do you propose?"

He examines her- at a glance, it appears the years have been kind to her. Kinder to her than to him, he thinks. There would be no fun in her simply _giving up_ to him, no. He wants her fear. He wants her desperation. He wants... 

"I want everything," he says. "I want it all." Then he grabs her by the hair and kisses her roughly. 

She's shocked at first, hands on his chest to push him away. But seconds pass and she does not. Instead she holds onto his neck, pulling him closer to her. 

_Too easy, too easy._ That it should be this easy to claim her, to make her bend, after the years he'd spent plotting this, _imagining_ this. It should be criminal. 

He wants to sabotage this somehow, he wants to ruin it. And yet his traitorous lips find comfort in the taste of another. His traitorous hands seek more, pry at the edges of her armor to find skin.

Her fingers dig into the crevices of his arm, trailing to where the connected to release the latches. Her heart is fluttering in her chest - how many nights had she spent wanting _this_ , this in particular. 

Using her strong grip, she shoves him, pinning his shoulders to the desert floor. Her legs straddle his midriff, a low grumble of annoyance as she fiddles with the infuriating armour.

Ah, _finally._ The desperation that he'd wished to see from her. He allows her to pin him, to think herself in some semblance of control. 

Even so, he allows himself a small smile. Now, the game can truly begin.

She grips the breastplate and tears it from her chest. She pauses halfway, claws still holding the armour, as she smiles.

"Isn't this nice? You can have this if you just _agree with me_ ," she hisses, grabbing his neck with both her hands. 

He tears it off the rest of the way himself and his lips curl into a cruel smile. "Or I could keep doing this and watch you give it to me anyway." He leans up to whisper in her ear. "You'd give it to me, wouldn't you? My _wife_?"

Her skin crawls when she feels his breath against her neck. She can see those pretty blue eyes _mock_ her for being so indulgent. 

Ifritah grabs a fist full of hair, pulling him from her. "I'm not giving you _anything_ ," she purrs. "If you want it, come and try to take it, _husband dearest_.”

"Husband _dearest_ ," Zenos muses. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd come to _enjoy_ the title. Wife dearest." 

He wraps his fingers around her throat while her own hands are too occupied to stop him.

She lets out a startled choke, releasing her hands from his neck. Her fingers pry a space between his palm and her throat, but her voice is garbled nonetheless.

"F-Fuck you! Last time I checked you're the one pinned to the ground!"

He feels something close to giddiness bubble up in his head. Ah, yes, this is what he wanted. This is what he'd chased for so long. 

"Am I?" he asks.

He plants his feet firm on the dusty ground and bucks his hips upwards to dislodge her from her position, then hooks his leg around hers and reverses them before she can recover with her throat still caught in his hand.

She yelps when her back makes contact with the ground, the air ripped from her lungs in one steady move. She scolds herself for being too cocky, too confident in her own abilities. 

But also he is distracting - everything about him. Varis refused the two to spend any time alone together months before their 18th, most likely due to the plot to destroy Dalmasca - that the savage wouldn't sully his only son. 

Yet with those soft lips, she finds herself letting his palm dig into her throat to grab a fist full of his hair. She pulls him to meet his lips to hers, and steal the final breath from her lungs 

He allows her to kiss him, although his hunger is for something far more carnal than a mere joining of lips. He pulls away and flicks the front of her top with his metal-clad finger. "Off. Now." He relinquishes his grip on her throat enough for her to comply with the order.

She doesn't want to obey, but she finds herself obeying regardless. Fingers peel off the top with relative ease.

The moment her skin is revealed to him he kneads her breast in his palm, uncaring of how the sharp points of his armor scratch her. He leans down and steals another brief, messy kiss from her, teeth scraping her lower lip. 

"What, no more fight?" he growls when they part. "When did you get so soft?"

She hisses as the claws scratch the tender skin, plucking at the scales of her breast. "I told you, I'm not fighting you-" Her foot rests on his chest, threatening to shove him off. " _Accept my deal_."

He catches her ankle, so small in his hand that it reminds him of a doll, and pulls it over his shoulder instead, grinding his hips against her clothed center with the wicked grin of a predator.

"If I might say so, my wife," he says, "you're not in a position to be making bargains."

Her face burns a bright red when he lifts her leg onto her shoulder. She swallows the sigh of pleasure, fingers curling into the front of his waistband. " _Accept it_ , and you can have this whenever you desire." 

"I can't say I'm very tempted," Zenos says. "Why give something up that is _rightfully mine_ when I have no problem making you beg for my cock?"

As he says this, he pulls down his waistband himself, tearing it from her grasp, his half-hard length thick and heavy in the space between her thighs. 

Her face burns even brighter with the suggestion. "I'm not going to beg."

"Your body... your _acquiescence,_ says otherwise." 

He slides his hips back and then thrusts forward once more, his thumb pressing his cock against her, hard and hot and growing to almost reach her navel. Oh, how sweet it will be to watch her break for him, break _around_ him, to watch her come undone in every way, physical and otherwise.

Her toes curl at the touch and her skin burns with desire. She wants him, of course she does - who would not want a man seemingly sculpted by the Twelve? 

"Your body seems to beg _more_ than _mine_ , _your highness_ ," she coos, grabbing his cock in her hand. Her ego was too large to swallow, even though wrapping her hand around the girth of his cock made her mouth go dry.

He hisses at her touch, but there's no shame in it - no shame in the natural pleasure of a hand on his cock, so long as he is not _desperate_ like her. He watches her mouth open slightly, as if imagining the taste, and it sparks a wicked delight in the pit of his stomach. 

"I would _beg_ to differ," he says. "Look at you. You're practically drooling for it. Like a starved animal." 

Her grip tightens and she snarls at him, annoyance sparking in her expression when her hidden desire is dragged into the light. 

" _No I'm not-_ " She reaches for a fistful of hair, yanking his head downwards. "Why don't you make good use of that mouth of yours instead of spouting lies?"

"Gladly, with the assurance that my every touch draws you deeper." 

He doesn't give her a chance to retort, instead laving his tongue over her nipple and hooking his fingers into the edge of her pants.

Eyes flutter shut, the barest hint of a moan parting from her as she feels the warm touch of his lips against her. "After this we are discussing the deal--"

He lifts his head from her, a trail of saliva still dripping from his lip. 

"Oh, how satisfying it is to watch you compromise," he says. "Give it all to me. Everything." 

Then he sits up, removes his touch from her completely. He motions to her pants wordlessly and waits to see her obey the needs of her body.

She lets out a mocking laugh. "If you think I'll simply cower and obey you, you are terribly wrong."

He returns it with a cruel laugh of his own as he buttons his pants back up and stands. "Well, then, since we have nothing to discuss," he says. "Don't catch a cold out here." 

"Wha-" Instinctively, she covers her chest with her arm and hand. "What the fuck, Zenos?!"

"We could continue," he drawls as his lips curl into a smirk. "If you would only cooperate." 

Ah, now it gets interesting. He's laid the trap, set the bait, drawn her in and left her wanting. Now all that remains is to wait. And oh, how he revels in the waiting.

He underestimates her stubbornness, the ego that swells with very utterance of gratitude. She was better than this, or so she tells herself, and will continue to repeat to herself back to camp. Her face reflects the annoyance that churns in her mind, no stoic facade to hide behind. 

"You see how annoying it is when someone doesn't cooperate, now don't you?" She grabs her shirt and slips it back on without breaking eye contact with him. 

"I am well versed in the ways of men, Zenos. I know I can return to my camp without any struggle but _you_?" She wants to bark out a laugh, but she holds back, instead smiling. "I hope your hand is just as enjoyable as I would have been."

His jaw clenches. Is she calling his bluff? _Had_ he bluffed? Is he truly prepared to walk away from here? From _her_? 

His smile grows wider to think of it. To entertain the possibility of _defeat._ And of course it would come by no other hand. Of course it would be _her._ His _wife._ His equal in every way. 

"Come, now," he says. "Since it's plain I can't coax obedience out of you, shall I force it?"

Snared in her trap, she smiles. An impasse with her hand above his, ready to strike, dig her teeth into his neck for the killing blow. A part of her aches; she wishes their reunion different, but another glows with joy. She had beaten him at his own game. 

"I will give it, willingly, Zenos," she presses a hand on his chest. "If you accept my offer. I'll return with you, and beg as much as you desire."

It's a bittersweet victory. _No,_ a blissful defeat. In the end, after all his struggle, after all his tactics and stratagems, when he thought he'd had her in his snare... she'd had him in her palm all the way. 

He could laugh. He could cry. The thrill that goes through him, not at all sexual, is liquid levin. And yet a part of him, perhaps the vestige of the boy in him, yearns for the Dalmascan princess that had first captured his fancy all those years ago. 

But there's nothing to be done about it now. They're both older, and very different people than they once were. Both beasts, desperate for a rut in the sand.

He grasps her tiny wrist and presses a kiss to the back of her knuckles that turns into a scrape of his teeth. "Give it, then."

She wishes she could say she trusted him once, before all of this, in their youth. But even then she still held that fear. Her mother had burrowed that anxiety deep into her skull: _do not trust a single soul_. 

"I have to be sure you won't go back on your word." Her eyes wander, the open desert was the last place she would have wanted to share an intimate moment. "And not here. There is an abandoned village, I'm sure one of the homes-"

Zenos doesn't let her finish, instead picking her up by the waist and hoisting her over his shoulder. 

He knows the place. This is his hunting ground, after all, and he knows the corners where the rats tend to hide.

"Wha-?!" Her eyes go wide as she's flung like a sack of potatoes onto his shoulder. She doesn't fight it, instead resting her chin on her arm. "I suppose you're taking me there now." 

Zenos looks over his shoulder at her. "Unless you'd rather fuck in the dirt like the animals we are."

"No - Does this mean you're agreeing to my terms?"

"I agree to consider them. Does that suffice?"

"It is an improvement from before- yes."

"Well then," he says, and sets her on her feet as they reach the outskirts of the town. "It seems we've reached an agreement."

She absentmindedly tucks a strand of hair behind her horn, looking at the abandoned and disseminated village. Her heart aches for the Ala Mhigans and everything they had gone through - a reflection of what happened to Dalmasca.

"It seems so." Ifritah begins to walk to one of the more sturdier buildings, entering inside.

He has to stoop down to enter the structure, its former inhabitants much smaller in stature than he. 

He remembers this village, albeit vaguely. It had posed little challenge, its people either fleeing or surrendering at his approach. His reputation preceded him at that point, which left little sport in the cleanup.

She can't help but laugh at how he must crouch to enter the home. "Well, since your Majesty has permitted an audience with his beloved wife, I suppose I can return the favour." 

Her arms cross over her chest, expression steel. "How would you like me to beg, your Highness?"

He frowns. _No, no!_ This is supposed to be more than mere actors in a play. He needs time to reverse the field, extricate himself from her hold. 

He smooths over his thoughts with his usual calm demeanor. "As I recall, we were wearing far fewer clothes than this when we last left off."

She nonchalantly pulls her shirt off over her head and tosses it to the side. "You'll have to come down to my height to make this work."

He drops to one knee, now looking up at her, and gets to work on the buttons of his own shirt. "Any other requests, _wife dearest?_ " 

"You look handsome, _husband dearest_." 

She takes his face in her hands, her lips meeting his. The touch is gentle at first, but she pulls him closer until her chest is pressed flush against his.

He nearly groans at the feeling of her nipples against his bare chest, but he bites back the sound and instead digs his fingers into the soft flesh of her ass.

She keeps kissing him as she unbuttons and removes the all too restricting leather pants. Her hands return to his neck, pulling him down on top of her as she falls to the floor of the abandoned home. 

When she parts for air, a string of saliva is the only reminder of their connection. "How would his Majesty like me to beg?"

He examines her, now fully exposed to him, through half lidded eyes. He trails his hand down the planes of her stomach, down to her glistening sex, and slides a finger in slowly. 

"I think," he says, "I need your pleas to be genuine. You'll have to earn the mercy of my cock. I won't indulge you until I see the light die in your eyes. Not until I watch you become nothing but a starved beast, a thing for me to breed and use for my own pleasure."

Her mouth hangs wantonly open, eyelashes flutter as she feels his finger push into her. The pressure is intense at first, but the sound of his voice relaxes her - even if he is promising to break her. Perhaps that's what she wants; the indestructible warrior of light just needing to know that she can be wrecked and ruined. 

Her claws graze his shoulder, digging into the porcelain flesh. "A-ah, t-that shouldn't ... shouldn't be too h-hard."

He slides the finger out, then back in at the same leisurely pace - no added friction, no added stretch. Oh, how tight she is already around him, how wet the sound of her cunt as it swallows him greedily. 

"Already desperate?" he purrs. "Now, that's no fun. Perhaps I should show you the true meaning of want." 

He slips his finger out of her, watches as her hole grasps around nothing.

Ifritah's claws dig deeper into his skin, a low growl emanating from her throat as he pulls away. Oh how easily she falls apart for him, how she yearns for his every touch. "Zenos-" She swallows thickly.

"Yes, my wife?" He drags his wet finger around her center, everywhere except where she needs it.

She whines against his touch, annoyance growing in her chest. She removes her hand from his bicep with the intention of relieving herself.

He snatches her wrist with the hand he'd used to pleasure her only moments earlier, a disappointed tut-tut rising from him. 

"If you're just going to do it yourself, you hardly need me here," he says. "Now, let's try this again. Use your words."

She sneers - "Fine. Please, Zenos, fuck me with your finger."

"Hm," he says with a raised brow, lips set in an annoyed line. "Since you don't seem very eager, I think you can do it yourself after all." 

He shifts his grip on her wrist to mold her fingers, just the pointer out, and shoves her own finger -much smaller than his- into her soaked entrance.

She gasps at the sharp claw in her, mouth agape at the sudden pain. "Zenos - please," she whines, trying to pry her finger from inside her. "Please just fuck me."

He pushes and pulls her wrist in response, forcing her to fuck herself on her one finger - not nearly enough to satisfy, he knows.

"Now, now," he says - his voice starts to edge into a growl, rough with arousal at the sight of her pussy swallowing her finger. 

"Isn't this what you wanted? Isn't this how you were going to take your own pleasure alone in your camp, your breasts damp with my tongue, your mind busy with the thought of my cock stretching you? Fucking yourself just like this while you wished for something bigger, something deeper, something to fill that emptiness inside you?"

Her eyes water from the pain, but it is the sharpness of her claw dragging against the walls of her cunt that makes her cry out with pleasure. But he's right, she hates it - he's right. She wants more than just a small finger, even if the pain drives her wild. 

"P-please," she heaves between breaths. "How much m-more must I beg?"

He tears her hand away and replaces it with his own, two of his thick fingers sliding into her up to the knuckle. 

"I want you broken. I want to crush that rebellious spirit of yours like one would break in a stubborn horse." He starts to fuck her with his two fingers at a hard and merciless pace. "I want you to offer me everything. And I want you to mean it."

Ifritah moans become more frantic, more desperate. She clutches onto Zenos's hair, his bicep - anything - to remain grounded as he fucks her. "I-I tried--" She tilts her head back, she can't bear to look at him, not when she was so vulnerable, so weak. "Y-ha-you didn't a-accept! I - mhm!! I even o-offered myself t-to you!"

He pistons his fingers in and out of her, relentless, the slide made easy with her slick. "Ah, but you offered me a trade," he says. "I want to take you. And I want it unconditionally."

She has a duty - to her people, to herself. Was she going to throw it all away to just have the faintest hint of pleasure satisfied? "F-fine, I'm yours! I'm yours- yours to take-"

He pulls his fingers from her and wraps them in her hair instead as he stands up. With his free hand he unfastens his pants and allows his cock, thick and near throbbing, to reveal itself. He yanks her closer to him so his length looms over her face. 

"Show me," he orders. "Show me how much of a whore you are."

She takes his girth into both her hands and lifts his cock so the back is exposed. She drags her tongue from the base to the tip, lubricating the length with her spit. She tests how much of him she can take without choking, swallowing the head of his cock until it reaches the backs of her throat.

He tightens his grip on her hair as her mouth closes around him, the feeling a relief but the unattended inches of his cock still aching. 

"Has my wife sucked other cocks in my absence?" he asks. "Shall we see?" He slams his hips forward, uncaring if her throat is prepared to take him or not. This isn't about her. This is about his pleasure, his dominance, his victory.

Her eyes burn as tears roll down her cheeks, gagging against his cock. The girth of it was too wide for her to relax her jaw, forcing her mouth wide open. She reminds herself to breathe through her nose as she grips onto his hips, waiting for him to continue to thrust into her mouth.

He pulls his hips back and thrusts forward again, deeper, then again and again, either deaf to the strangled noise she makes around his length or reveling in it. 

"You love this, don't you? You want me to break you. You want me to turn you into a cock-addled fuck doll, a set of holes to use and dispose of as I see fit." He fists his hand in her hair and pulls her all the way down until her nose nests against his abdomen, then off of his cock completely with a bubbly line of spit dripping from him. 

"Say it."

There is something blissful about giving yourself away, completely and utterly. To be weak in the brief, fluttering moments. She looks at him with lust, with pure desire, saliva dripping down her chin and tears streaking her cheeks. 

“I love this. I want you to break me,” she says, sincerity in her voice. “I beg of you - fuck me and breed me like a common beast.”

Zenos shoves her back down on his cock, hilting himself in her throat and holding her there as she gags and chokes. 

"Look at you, princess. Warrior of Light, is that what they call you now?" he says with a sneer. "What would they think if they saw you like this? I don't even need a weapon to bring you low - you debase yourself for me all on your own."

Her grip on his hips tighten, claws dig into porcelain flesh until blood begins to weep from the open wound. He was right, she so easily fell apart in his grasp - an unstable facade ripped from her. She would laugh with misery if she wasn't suffocating on his cock. Nonetheless she obeys - as she was taught to do; as princess and as a Warrior of Light. Her cheeks sunken as she sucks until she can taste the bitterness of precum on her tongue.

The vice of her throat around his cock - this is the most alive he's felt in ages. And as much as he wants to fuck every hole she has to give him, at the same time he's content to draw this out, make this last as long as possible. He releases his grip on her hair but makes no move to pull her off of him, and simply waits to see what she will do.

The pressure of him pulling her hair is absent now. She takes advantage of this, continuing to bob her head up and down his cock, fingers digging into his flesh. She wants to hear him moan, to hear the low rumble of pleasure; a sound so addicting to the ear. And so she takes him all in, until her nose brushes once more against his abdomen and she blinks away the tears of suffocation. 

He groans with pleasure as she services him, taking him all the way like he'd taught her. That dead look in her eyes - that's what he'd wanted. Utterly broken, drunk on cock, sucking him past the point of her own pain to bring him pleasure, and of her own will. Suffocating on him because she wants to. 

"Keep going, whore," he says, punctuated by a grunt. So wet, so warm, so tight. He can only imagine how much better her cunt will be.

She obeys the command, pumping his cock with one hand as the other massages his balls. She follows through with the movement of her hand, up and down, before bringing her focus on sucking the head of his cock.

Her mouth parts from him with a lewd pop, and she meets his gaze with smudged eyes. “I’m no whore,” she sneers, grabbing the back of his knees and yanking until he falls onto his back on the floor. She crawls on top of him, straddling his waist. “I’m your wife.”

He laughs. He laughs, and laughs some more, in complete awe of this woman that he had bound himself to. By law, yes, but his heart had been bound to her long before any legal union. 

"Yes," he growls. "You are." He grips her hips and spears her on his cock, and the sudden tightness and warmth, her body's protest of the large intrusion, makes him want to howl like a dog in heat. 

"I... own you," he says. He bites back the rest of the words. _And you own me. No one else. I'll have no one else._

She cries out at the sudden intrusion, gasping for air at the throbbing pressure. Her eyes flutter shut, brows knitted as she adjusts to the stretch. Her mouth hangs open and she smiles - gods, it shouldn't feel so good to be tearing at the seams. She drags her claws down his chest, leaving a trail of red in its wake.

"And you're my husband," she replies, bucking her hips forward to test how much she could truly take. "I own you." She leans forward, licking the blood that beads on his chest. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Tight. So fucking tight. He's surprised she can take all of him like this. He's proud. He grabs the thick base of her tail and uses it to slam her hips up and down on him, as if she were no more than a fleshlight.

She doesn't cry out this time. Instead, she lets out a long, dragged out moan. It was so sickeningly pleasurable to feel like she was being pushed to her limit; to feel so empty and then so full in a single thrust. Her mind is filled with another idea, and so she removes herself completely from him. Leaning close, she drags her fangs across his throat. "Fuck me from behind."

Although his instinct is to recoil from agreeing so easily, he'd been of the same mind. And if she wanted it from behind... He'd have to make her pay for the suggestion.

He grabs both of her shoulders and turns her around, then pushes her face-first into the ground. With one hand he presses her face down into the dusty floor - with the other he lays his cock in the cleft of her ass, hard and hot and dripping with their combined fluids. 

"You want me to take you like this?" he asks. "How bad do you want it?"

She pushes her hips back, pressing her ass against his hips. Her tail whips side to side with annoyance and eagerness. "As badly as you."

He catches her tail and holds it still. "Not badly enough, if you're still armed with smart quips," he says. 

He lifts her by the tail, away from his cock, and leans close to blow warm air across her soaked folds, her stretched and newly emptied hole. "Try again. What do you want?"

She digs her claws into the ground as she's lifted up by her tail, making a strangled sound of annoyance and greed. How much did he wish for her to debase herself in front of him? She was thankful he was not facing her, because her cheeks burned a bright red.

"I want you to fuck me like a beast - please."

Instead of answering her plea with any words of his own, he spreads her open with one thumb and licks along the inner lip of her pussy, a slow and languid motion. He trusts that she knows what he's looking for.

She sobs out a moan - a desperate plea. She had been yearning and wanting for so long, she could feel herself teeter between insanity and anger. At the touch of his tongue, she tries to push herself into him, a silent beg for more. 

"Please, Zenos." She wants to rip out her hair - she would have been trying to if he had not lifted her off the floor. "I beg of you to fuck me like a common whore. Please fill me and fuck me with your cock - I want it, I want it so badly-"

He chuckles against her, licks once more over her folds as a parting gesture, and slides just the tip of his cock into her. He grabs her tail and lifts it away from her so he can watch as her hole stretches around him. 

"Now, that's better," he says. "If you want my cock that much, it's yours. Come get it."

She pushes back, feeling his cock stretch her once more. Her eyes roll back, a hum of satisfaction and release once she feels her ass flush against his pelvis. “Gods.” If she could weep from joy she would. “Gods Zenos, you feel so good.”

Zenos holds her there by the tail, seated deep inside her and he tilts his head back with a long groan before he leans over her and smacks her ass hard with his large hand. 

"Does it feel good to be stretched open like this? I admit, I'm surprised your cunt was loose enough to fit it all. Have you been practicing?" 

He reaches around to her front and flattens his palm against her lower abdomen, curious to see if he can feel his own cock through her flesh. If her body had to distend to accommodate him.

His hand would graze over the bulge in her stomach, but she hardly takes heed of it. Every small movement from him, even the most minuscule amount, sent an intense wave of pleasure over her. 

The combined fullness and the growing pain of pressure in her pelvis was enough to keep her mind occupied from replying to his comment. She tries to push further into him, urging him to thrust into her. 

"Fine," he growls to her cheekbone. "You want me to fuck you? You'd better be prepared to take it." 

He pulls his hips back and slams them forward with a low grunt of pleasure, one hand on her tail while the other delivers another hard slap across her reddening ass.

She digs her nails into the ground, burying her claws into the cracking floor as Zenos bottoms out in her. She lets out a long groan - a garbled sob. "G-Gods, Zenos - yes yes yes! Please f-fuck me, please use me- please, I-I'm your beast."

He thrusts into her at a brutal pace, feels their mixed fluids trickle down his thigh amid the wet and obscene sound of their skin meeting. 

"Yes," he groans, his words punctuated by heavy, pleasured breaths. "You are."

He spreads her ass cheek with his thumb, eyes fixed on the place where he disappears into her. "You belong to me. You belonged to me _first_ . Before Eorzea, before those Scions stole you. You were - you _are. Mine._ "

She nods, face pressed against the floor as he pounds into her. The cool ground is a relief to her burning skin and even the hot tears of pleasure that roll down her cheek. 

“I’m yours, I’m yours - oh Gods - I’m yours-”

Close. She's close. He's not yet, but he'll bring her over if it kills him. More. He needs more leverage than he can get kneeling like this, his knees the only fulcrum available to him. 

He stands up, hands on her waist to lift her with him, and at this new angle he pulls out farther, fucks in deeper, holding her to him like a doll as he thrusts with the full force of his legs, his hips, his back. 

Oh Gods, it’s too much and yet not enough. She digs her claws into whatever she can grasp onto; the flesh of her thighs, the nails dig deep into the fat and yes - by every logic - it should hurt, but it adds flavour to the pleasure making it ecstasy. 

Crimson steadily flows from the gaps between nail and thigh. Her body seizes and she chokes on Zenos’s name as she comes once, then twice. She wants to beg him to continue or to stop - she can’t decide.

Even as she rides out the waves of her orgasm, and the second, as her walls clench impossibly tighter around him, still he doesn't relent. Even when she must be sore and raw around him, he doesn't slow - a train speeding at full force towards his own end.

"Scream, my beast, my wife," he commands. "Let all of Gyr Abania know who conquered you this night."

She rests her head against his shoulder as she’s pounded into, holding onto his neck with bloody hands. His moans and continued thrusts - the idea of being filled by him - brings her close once more. “Please fill me with your cum - please breed me!”

The affirmation is enough to send him over the edge, and he pulls her close to sheathe himself completely as he empties himself in her with a long moan.

She relaxes in his grip, chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. She squirms in his arms until he releases her, and lays on the floor still panting. "Good God."

He stands and watches her through half-lidded eyes as his length slips out of her and his spend starts to leak out of her abused hole. He swallows hard as he catches his breath, moistening his mouth enough to speak. "You didn't finish."

She wants to get up, but her body aches. More than it did after a battle or training, she can hardly muster to speak and takes a moment to gather her breath. "I did," she replies, closing her eyes. How nice it would be to fall asleep. "Multiple times, actually. 

He stalks closer and kneels down to her level again, turns her over onto her back. "But that last time," he says. He presses the heel of his hand against her clit. "You were close. And you never finished."

"Zenos please." She presses her thighs together, trapping his hand between them. "You're going to drive me to insanity at this rate." 

He chuckles, low and breathless, and wiggles his palm as much as he can between the vice of her thighs, giving the slightest friction on her clit. "Is that not the goal?"

She relaxes her grip on his hand, giving him more leeway to rub at her overworked pussy. She grinds her hips against his hand, a small groan parting from her at the friction. "If it is, you're doing an excellent job."

He dips two fingers into her, pushing out some of his own cum as he does, and grinds his hand against her harder. "If you're still coherent, then it seems I must do one better," he says with a wide grin.

She takes a sharp breath in, the abandoned wave of her pleasure returning as he enters her. "If you want incoherence," she replies, voice breathless. "Then it's best to use your mouth."

He'd had a mind to taste her already, but as always, their thoughts are too similar. He lowers his head down and fans his breath across her wet folds. 

"Now, now, I thought I taught you manners," he says. "Unless you'd like me to repeat the lesson?"

"N-No, that's not necessary-"Her laughter is weak. She cards her fingers through his hair, pushing back the strands that fall in front of his face. "Will you _please_ use your mouth, my love."

Those two words, _my love_ , break something inside of him. He knows it shows on his face, but in the darkness of this room, with _her_ as his only audience... he could care less. When he speaks, he's surprised to find his own voice hoarse. 

"It would be my pleasure." He dips his head down between her thighs, plunges his fingers into her up to the knuckle, smooths the rough flat of his tongue over her clit. With his free hand he pins her thigh down to the ground, keeping her open - a feast fit for a prince.

She learned from a young age to pick up the smallest hint, a flicker, of emotion besides indifference. When she sees it, she knows. She would know it darkness, in death. Her lips pull back into a sincere smile, lips parting as she groans. 

"I-It's pathetic, but-" she curls her fingers into his hair, gripping tightly. "B-but I'm close."

Zenos smiles against her, removes his fingers and puts his hands on both thighs to splay them apart. He pushes his tongue into her, and the taste of himself is enough to almost make him stir again. _Oh well, we can take care of that in time._ He stays there with his tongue deep in her pussy, unmoving, pinning her legs down to the dusty floor.

She pushes her hips against him, both her hands clutching fistfuls of his hair. Her eyes flutter back, mouth parted to cry out his name once more as she comes.

Only when he feels her flutter around him, the start of her orgasm, does he deign to force her to ride it out. He licks her from the inside, tongue curling against her walls even as they spasm around him, teeth scraping against her clit.

"Z-Zenos pl-please." She tries to bring him closer, riding out her orgasm. He indulges her, lets her pull him in deep, swirls his tongue inside her as she clamps down. He can't stop, won't stop until she's screaming. Her eyes go wide, her moans turning into screams, back curling - his name caught in her throat.

As she arches her back, he slides his finger, still wet from her cunt, up against her asshole, and gently presses in - not enough to breach, just enough for her to feel it. His glacial eyes flick up to watch her scream, watch her writhe, watch her third orgasm of the night stretch out until she's wrecked.

She writhes against his touch, panting out the remainder of her orgasm until he presses his wet finger against her ass. Her mouth hangs wantonly open as she cries out in pleasure for the fourth time. 

When it subsides she heaves, pulling his head from her. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

As he extricates himself from her, admiring his handiwork, he feels himself stir again at the sight. She looks completely fucked out - mouth open but silent, breasts red and heaving with the effort of breathing, cunt raw and throbbing, dripping with a combination of slick, cum, and saliva.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE no spoiler-y comments my gf and co-author is still playing stormblood :#


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continuation of part 1

"Did I not say," he asks with a smile, "That I'd have you broken before me?"

She can't muster a reply and simply nods weakly. She rolls onto her side, eyes closing.He rolls onto his back and strokes his cock idly, already half hard. 

For a long moment there's just the moonlight, the sounds of the desert night, and both of their heavy breaths. And now, in the absence of the power play and the pretenses and the anger, the inexplicable anger of their reunion - of the  _ circumstances _ of it - it's just them. 

As it's always been. 

His question sticks in his throat. He shouldn't be ashamed, and he should care to know even less, but- "Have you had other lovers? In the time we were apart?"

She catches her breath and pulls herself next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. She places her hand over his, following the slow stroking movement. Her mind wanders for a moment before it returns to the present. 

"Yes." There was no need to lie, why should she? She had to take certain... jobs to keep herself alive before she met the Scions. She chased and was chased; it was fun, but the enjoyment never lasted. "But I never loved them. Not like I love you." 

She catches his eyes in hers - such brilliant blue eyes, she often felt like she would drown if she stared for too long. "I don't want to fight you - it pains me to do so." She drops her gaze. "When I lose you, I'll have no one. I'll truly be alone."

"And when I lose you? Who's to say who will be the victor, when next we meet on the battlefield?" He turns away, unable to look at her. "I've grown accustomed to my solitude. And you know I cannot give up Ala Mhigo." 

He knew, somehow, that she'd had other lovers. And he'd done the same, so there was no room for judgement on his part. But to hear her say it, he feels a stupid, childish jealousy.

"I know you have, but it doesn't have to be this way." She wasn't sure what options they had, she felt lost. Confused and upset. She thought she was doing the right thing, but her confidence in herself and her beliefs were wavering.

"You speak of love, but what of satisfaction?" he asks, almost playfully. "How do I compare?"

Ifritah smiles at the question. She releases him to cup his face and place a kiss on the crook of his neck. She buries her nose there, taking in the sweet scent that she would know anywhere -  _ his _ . 

“There is no comparison to be made," she replies, returning her hand to stroke his cock. Just the feeling of it in her hand made her mouth go dry. "You are exceptional, addicting, even. I fear I'll never be satisfied again."

He releases his cock and lets her take over, cradling his hands behind his head with a pleased hum. The slight friction is good, not enough to satisfy, but good. 

"Well, my love," he coos. "You could always surrender to the Empire, and you could have this whenever you please." 

He knows she won't. They can make all sorts of promises in their pillow talk, but reality is much harsher. 

"Or we could stay in this little hovel and continue to hide from all our responsibilities and allegiances." He glances past a ruined countertop. "I think the stove might be functional with some minor tinkering."

She focuses her movements to the head of his cock; rubbing her thumb in slow circles, stroking the length and repeating the process again. Tired eyes look to the ruins of the countertop, of the home in general. 

"An escape from reality would be nice," she mumbles. If Ifritah were honest, she wasn't thinking much about the rebellion or even the world outside of the hut. She was more focused on the lingering feeling of ecstasy, the girth of the cock in her hand and the growing warmth in her stomach. 

Even with his cum still leaking from her, she climbs on top of him, straddling his hips. She places his length between the lips of her sex, hands on his chest as she slowly grinds down on it. "You're good at it - making me forget. I want to return the favour."

_ Oh, _ he'd gladly forget. With the heat of her cunt trapping his cock between her hips and his stomach, the easy slide, he's fully hard again and he bucks his hips up into her. The war, the rebellion, the battlefield all melts away into a growing haze of pleasure. 

"Didn't get enough?" he growls. "You want more of my cum inside you? Or do you have other plans this time?"

She catches her bottom lip with her teeth, stopping briefly before continuing to grind against him. Her hands run down the length of his chest, feeling the bump and curve of his muscles beneath her claws. 

"You've made me insatiable," she coos, bending at the hip to nip at his skin with her teeth. "But I wish to reciprocate the same bliss you've shown me."

"Every moment with you is bliss." The words are out before he can stop them, before he can even comprehend them, and he curses himself for it. She's turned him soft. This maddening, beautiful, powerful woman... she's turned him soft.

It would have hurt less if he had just reached in with his bare hand and tore out her heart. Her eyes water and she rests her forehead on his chest so he cannot see her tears. 

They were not of anger nor sadness, but of joy and love. "I love you," she mumbles against his skin. "I'll swear I'll never stop loving you."

He feels water drip onto his bare skin, and while every bone in his body wants to recoil from this, from the opening of a wound he'd thought long healed, millennia of mortal evolution draws his hand to her back, rubs in small circles. And then, the words he'd never been able to say rise to his lips. 

They don't fall out, like so many of his accidental confessions earlier that night. He says it with purpose. "I love you," he says. "I could never love anyone else."

She holds onto him as tightly as she can - she knows she can't hurt him, she knows she doesn't need to hold herself back when she is around him. 

By his side she was merely Ifritah, not Parizad, the Warrior of Light - the weapon of Eorzea. Looking up, she takes his face into her hands and kisses him softly. The tears that streak her cheeks mixing with the sweet taste of his lips. 

"I don't want to fight you. I don't want to be enemies with you. How am I supposed to hate the only person left that I love?"

He tries not to melt into the kiss, tries to keep his wits about him. When she parts from him he can't look her in the eyes. For once, he's afraid. Afraid to show her the conflict in his mind. 

"Then join me," he says, quietly. Not a boast, this time. Not an attempt to goad her. "You know the price of my defeat. I would assume the cost is far less steep for you."

"I can't abandon them... If you would agree to my terms." She looks away as well; they were not raised to show vulnerability, not even to one another. Her head rests on his chest, eyes closed to hear the strong thrumming of his heart. "I'll join you if Garlemald withdraws from Ala Mhigo."

He pulls away to look down his nose at her. "You'll join me in death, is what will happen. They'll kill us both for it."

"Then we kill them in return - I have no qualms in killing Garleans, especially not your father." 

Just the thought... they would dare threaten her? It's enough to make her blood boil. Perhaps when she was younger, she would have been afraid, but they couldn't do anything now. "I don't wish to kill  _ you _ . But the rest of them... I do intend on getting my revenge."

He chuckles against her. "I do like when you get like this. Little  _ beast _ ." He squeezes her breast to punctuate his remark. "But I believe I was promised a royal treatment. Can't we table this discussion?"

"Ah - sorry." She sits upright, hands-on his abs; her expression is still dark, mind wandering. "I just wish I could get my hands on them... crush them like the bugs they are." There's the smallest hint of a smile, before it fades. "But the Scions would disagree."

He rolls his hips up against her, his cock sliding easily from the slick of their previous fuck. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity. 

"Your Scions would leash you?" he asks. "They don't know you like I do. Tell me. If you had the chance... how would you do it? How would you take your revenge?" He bites back a groan of pleasure as his hips slide once more, up, down.

The barest hint of a moan passes her lips, claws curl into his side as she juts her hips forward in a slow motion. The friction was pleasing, the conversation moreso.

"I would do what I did to Livia," she replies, her voice breathless as she picks up speed. She bites her bottom lip as the girth of his cock grinds against her clit. "I would rip their -  _ mhmm, Gods _ . I would rip their spines from their throats. Or even better, puncture their lungs so they slowly drown in their own blood."

He pictures it in his mind's eye - Ifritah, her claws dripping with lifeblood, that feral look in her eyes that sends a spark straight to his lower abdomen. His cock aches at the thought. The pressure of her, the hard nub of her clit on him, is good. Not good enough to satisfy, but watching her come undone yet  _ again _ is a kind of satisfaction all its own. And to watch her do it all by herself, spurred on by her fantasy of bloodlust... 

"Tell me more," Zenos growls. He leans forward and takes her nipple into his mouth, tongue rubbing across it roughly.

She closes her eyes briefly, focused on grinding hard against him. Satisfying at first, it is not enough now- not while her skin runs hot and her body yearns for something to tear her apart. 

She rises to her knees, positioning Zenos's cock at her entrance. Her eyes open to look at him as she descends, taking his entire length. She can't keep her focus, her eyes rolling back with bliss at the feeling of being filled. 

"I- ah- I would make a display of them," she finally says, mouth hung slightly agape to groan. " _ Gods, Zenos - I would _ \- I would stick their heads on spears outside of the throne room-" 

The thought,  _ the bliss _ of him in her and her having her revenge. Having gone completely mad from pleasure, from  _ joy _ . She nearly sobs out the next words: "I want to fuck you on that throne, covered in their blood. I want to claim it mine -  _ all mine _ ."

He  _ moans _ to think of it, the throne empty save for him and his queen, the two of them joined just like this, the slickness of blood mixed with the sweat and their pleasure. 

Her walls are so tight around him, such a perfect fit. His hands come to rest at her waist as he rocks into her, lifts his hips up to meet her while she describes her fantasy. 

"More... How would you have me?" he knows it's all just pillow talk, but he's so fucking turned on that he doesn't quite care if he sounds desperate. She wouldn't fault him for it. He's just like her.

" _ Like this. _ " She groans as she meets his hips, taking his cock deeper and harder into her. Her eyes close to imagine it, to see it there; him on the throne and her riding him with fervent desire. Passion and excitement in her blood from a recent kill -  _ a thrilling hunt. _

"I want to take every inch of you on that throne; I want it to be a sign -ah - of worship to you, to your wonderful cock," she pants out, raising her hips to unsheathe him before bringing them down in a single, fell swoop.

Zenos tilts his head back and groans, " _ Fuck, _ " as he hilts in her. One of his hands travels down to her clit and rubs her there. "Yes. Worship me."

She moans, pushing herself deeper into him, forcing his touch against her clit to be harder. "Tell me how to worship you, tell me how I can show my gratitude to you - to your cock."

He closes his eyes and lets the fantasy continue. How would he have her worship him? "Once you've ridden out your bloodlust on me, I'd have you on your knees to clean me up with naught but your tongue." 

Oh, what a sight that would be. "And then you'd suck me gratefully, grateful for the pleasure I'd given you, grateful for making you cum. Grateful for opening the door to your vengeance."

"Oh Zenos-" She rests her lips against his neck, this angle giving her more leeway to grind into him. 

"I want to be on my knees and worship you with my mouth. I want to taste your cock  _ so badly, _ " she groans. "I want to show my gratitude to you, my husband, my love, your  _ Majesty _ ."

With the hand that's not rubbing at her clit he threads his fingers through her hair and yanks her head back. 

"Yes, you do," he purrs. "You want to give me everything. Your mouth, your hands, your tits, perhaps even your tail if we've the time for it. You'll devote  _ everything _ to me. My  _ wife. _ " 

He kisses her roughly, thrusts into her harder. He won't let himself cum like this. He wants to see some of those fantasies play out before they go their separate ways after this rendezvous.

She gasps when he pulls her hair back, but merely smiles when she makes eye contact with him. " _ I do, I do _ ." 

She can feel herself peaking, her body seizing at his cock sliding in and out of her with ease. She moans against his kiss, and when they part, she catches his bottom lip with her fangs. 

"I-I'm close-" It felt so good to be  _ used _ , to be fucked so  _ thoroughly _ , if it had been anyone else, she would have been embarrassed for coming undone so quickly, easily. But not with him, never with him.

Zenos smooths the hair back from her forehead as if petting an animal. She's so beautiful like this, taking his cock so well. So  _ deep _ . 

"I know," he says, punctuated by his panting breaths. "You'll be good and cum for me, won't you? Cum one more time for me, pet?"

She nods weakly, pumping herself on his cock. It only takes a few more thrusts before her muscles tense around him. She's quiet as she comes, only softly whimpering, mouth pressed against his pec. 

He lets her ride out her orgasm, the flutter and sigh of her walls weaker now, tired and wrecked. He's still stiff within her, throbbing with need.

"You're so perfect," she mumbles, looking up at him with drunk and lazy eyes. She takes his hand in hers, bringing to her lips. "Let me suck your cock," she moans, putting his thumb in her mouth to suck before pulling it out with an obscene pop. "Let me taste your heavenly cum."

He replaces his thumb with two of his fingers, pushing them down against her tongue. 

"Yes," he says. " _ Worship _ me. Show me how grateful you are for my cock."

She takes his fingers deep into her throat, moaning as she does. She pulls herself off of him, crawling so that she lays between his legs. 

"I am eternally grateful for your cock," she coos, dragging her tongue from the base to the head. She licks her own juices from him, caressing his balls as she does. "I love the taste, the girth - I want to please his Majesty, I need to."

A low hum rises in the back of his throat at her ministrations. Yes, just like that. Let this image be burned into his mind- his wife completely fucked out, using every tool available to her to bring him pleasure. 

"I have half a mind to keep you around just to display you like this to the masses. Let them see how I've tamed the mighty Warrior of Light," he groans. "To see how addicted you are to my cock. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To have no other care than to worship my cock all day?"

"That is all I want. I just wish to feel you in my mouth, to taste you." She is drunk on the thought of it, to pleasure and worship this man. She can hardly keep herself from thinking before she speaks. How quickly she has fallen. 

"I want to be your tamed beast. I want to be your whore, I want to service you on your throne." She encompasses his cock between her tits, licking the tip before taking it whole. The girth of it, the way it pulls her jaw open, the taste of their combined fluids - she can feel herself starting to get wet again.

Yes, yes. How well she takes him, how openly she expresses her fervent wish to whore herself for him. The press of her tongue, of her tits, makes him moan. He watches as she presses her thighs together. 

"Wanting it again? How many times must my little whore cum tonight before she is satisfied?" he asks with a cruel laugh. "I wonder, can you cum on your own this time? Just from the pleasure of sucking me, from the act of debasing yourself? Rut your clit on the ground like the slut you are."

She positions herself so that she straddles his leg, keeping his cock between her breasts. The pressure of his thigh brings a sense of release to the growing pulse between her legs, but she is less focused on pleasing herself. 

She sucks the head of his cock, tongue mapping out every corner and crevice, before taking him in. Following the motion of her tits, her head bobs up and down, dragging the girth of his length over the rides of her throat and mouth.

He moans, lost in the pleasure of her mouth, of her tits on him. It feels good, but he's dismayed to find the sense of boredom crawling back. This could be any blowjob, a mere carnal act. He'd conquered her, tamed her. Now what? She's soaked against his thigh, so much so that he can hear the slick when she moves, even if it's just the barest friction. He twists his fingers in her hair and  _ pulls, _ hard enough to hurt. 

"I said  _ rut, _ like an animal," he commands. "Does it not bring you pleasure to worship me? Show me how much it pleases you."

She gags when he yanks her hair, gasping at the sudden pain.

Everything in her tells her to dissolve into anger, and her eyes flare alive with rage as she  _ obeys _ nonetheless. She grinds her clit against the muscular part of his thigh, leaving a trail of slick that she returns to with every thrust forward. 

She doesn't moan, instead groaning and grunting like an animal in heat. She takes his cock into her mouth, letting him feel the vibration of pleasure in her throat. Teasing him with her teeth.

It's that  _ look, _ the same look that sparks in her eyes upon the battlefield, that ignites the flame in him again. He watches her rut on him, feels her slide against him, desperate and feral and utterly drunk on him. 

He thrusts once into her mouth just to hear her choke, just to watch her return to him even so, eager to taste him. Eager to please him. So eager that it's enough fuel to pleasure herself. 

"Suck me," he growls, no longer caring what comes from his mouth. "Suck me like you're starved. Tell me that you love it."

She sucks him harder; cheeks sunken as she takes him deeper into her throat. She gags as it hits the cleft of her mouth, saliva dripping from the corner of her lips as she pumps his cock with her tits. She moans against his girth, continuing to rut against his thigh. It was not enough to satisfy, not enough to bring her up that peak, but it was satisfying enough.

He's close, so close, the sight of her drooling over his cock, devouring him with such abandon, her tits glistening with her spit, with his precum, with the remainder of her own fluids. And all the while she grinds her clit against him like a depraved slut. 

"Where do you want my cum?" he asks. "Down your throat? Across your face like a whore? Shall I paint your tits with it? Or inside your pussy again?" He groans at the thought that crosses his mind. "Perhaps you'd even like it in your asshole, the greedy little thing you are."

She removes herself from him with the pop, a string of precum connecting from his tip to her bottom lip. Her tongue swipes out, licking her lips clean.

" _ Everywhere _ ," she coos. "Cum in my throat, on my face, my tits." She licks his throbbing cock, kissing the tip. "You can fuck my ass later- would you like that, your majesty?"

He grins. "I would like that very much," he says through gritted teeth, willing himself to delay his orgasm enough for her to finish him herself. "Now, finish what you started."

She returns to servicing him, not relaxing her grip even when she can taste his cum. She swallows the first bit before withdrawing, letting him spill onto her face and chest. When he is done, she cleans any residue on his cock with her tongue.

He watches her clean him through half-closed eyes, the bliss of his orgasm washing over him in waves. His cum drips from her chin, paints her tits white, sticks in her hair. He looks her over- his masterpiece.

She smiles as she leans forward to kiss him. "I hope you enjoyed yourself," she coos.

Once they part he strokes his hand over her hair, catching his breath. "'Enjoyed myself' would be an understatement."

"I am happy to hear that." She kisses him once more. "Is there a river or a wash-bin I can clean myself with?"

He pushes himself upright with some effort. "I do believe there's a spring not far from here."

"Then let us go, as much as I adore you, I like to be clean -" she makes a face as she pulls a strand of her hair covered in his seed. "And not have... this in my hair."

He laughs a shallow laugh as he feels around on the floor for his discarded pants. "You mean you don't want a souvenir of our time together?"

She smiles and hands him his pants as she wraps his red sash around her torso. She wasn't about to sully her clothes. "I would prefer a souvenir that is less ... sticky."

He puts on his pants and leans down to nibble along her neck. "And perhaps something more... permanent?" He punctuates it with a sharp bite.

She twitches at the sudden touch and can't help but begin to giggle, her instinct causing her to shrink away. "Stop! That tickles!"

Zenos lets her squirm away, and only after the mirth of the moment fades is he aware of the soft smile that graces his lips. 

He's not sure what to do with it. Happiness? Is that truly what this feeling is? Or is it another fleeting mirth, to disappear as quickly as it comes and make no lasting impression? No, he realizes with a feeling akin to despair. 

He already feels its hot brand on his heart. A searing pain that will leave a lasting mark when the iron's once again cold.

She notices the small shift in mood and takes his hand in hers. Pressing a gentle kiss to the knuckle, she urges him to return back to the present moment. Yes, beyond these walls, there was a war and there were duties. But they needn't think of such things now. 

"Come, my love. I think I saw the spring you mentioned before." She leads him out of the small home, towards the spring.

As she takes his hand in hers, fingers barely able to curl around his palm, he feels his heartbreak a little further. Wrapped in his sash, the fabric that covers only his waist nearly enough to swaddle her whole body... If he knew no better, he'd think her such a fragile thing.

The walk to the spring is short but she relishes in it. The warmth of his hand in hers brings her back to a time where they wandered the gardens, playing games in their youth. She smiles at the memory, her heart aching a bit as she realizes they have grown so far away from that time. 

She stares at the pool of water and before he can say a word, she dives in. It cools the burn on her skin and beneath her eyes where tears threaten to form. She would bury the memories with the corpses of her family and only mourn them when she was truly alone. Resurfacing, she pushes back her hair from her face, eyes focused on the brilliant night sky.

The sight of her in the moonlight is enough to push the melancholy from his mind, at least for a moment longer. He strips off his pants and wades into the water towards her. "You're getting my sash wet," he says, less of a reprimand and more of a tease.

"A shame," she replies, pulling the cloth from her body to lay on the rocks before them. She was familiar with the design - Ala Mhigo. She sneaks up behind him, jumping up a bit to catch his head and shove him into the water.

He sputters and chokes as the water fills his unprepared nose, his mouth, and he bucks her off to stand upright once more. He pushes the wet hair out of his face and glares at her with murderous intent. 

"You little--" He pounces on her and shoves her down as well, much in the same fashion. He doesn't hold back his strength - if she can deal with it, she can take it as well.

She's given a bit more leeway than she gave him. She holds her breathe before breaching the depths, a thankful advantage since Zenos's grip was stronger than hers. Nonetheless, she shoves him off and resurfaces. She pulls strands of her hair out of her face as she gasps for air. Her face breaks into a grin, which morphs into a laugh. 

She takes his face into hers and gives him a wet kiss, laughing against his lips.

When she parts from him, she still smiles; examining every nook and cranny his expression has to offer. From the slope of his nose to the flutter of his lashes. And her heart sinks, knowing this was merely borrowed time. That she should memorize his face before he, too, is gone.

He watches her smile fall and a hard knot forms in the pit of his stomach. Happiness is a luxury that people like them cannot afford. It's more addictive than the worst drug - and although he should know better than to indulge in it, it's only human nature. His fingers trail down to her collarbone, over the swell of her breast, down to her navel.

She catches his hand and clicks her tongue against her teeth. "Tsk. Another round and I won't be able to walk for a  _ week _ ."

He brings their joined hands closer and brushes his lips against her knuckles. "I thought you said I could fuck you in the ass," he whispers on a chuckle. He drops their hands down to skim the water with a sigh. "I was mapping you. Memorizing."

Her eyes go wide at the reminder and her gaze drops. " _ Ahem- _ ." She sinks deeper into the water, still not looking at him. "I was too."

He looks up at the stars, so bright out here in the desert. It would be nice to forget about what must come after this clandestine, serendipitous meeting, but it's specter haunts them in these quiet moments. What can he - what can they do to prolong this? How much longer can they make this fantasy last?

There had to be a way to fix this, wasn't there? How could she put an end to this war, reclaim Ala Mhigo while also keeping him alive? It seems impossible, an idea to daydream about, and yet... "Zenos." She takes his face in hers to meet his gaze. "Marry me."

His automatic reaction is a scoff.  _ Marry her? _ There are many things to criticize about the idea. First and foremost, the fact that they're married already, and the arrangement has done little to fix their current situation. 

His eyebrows furrow together, and he feels some of that familiar cold creep back into him. Although, this time it feels like more of a callous than the true empty ache he's long known. 

"We're already bound, Ifritah."

"Publicly, Zenos." 

She'll admit; she didn't know they were legally bound. She had thought he was bluffing, a way to get beneath her skin. "We could have an alliance— I just." Her hands drop along with her gaze. She hates this. This feeling of defeat. "I just can't lose you too."

He almost breaks, to see her like this. Decades of political training almost disappear for this moment. He almost says yes, despite every instinct that tells him no. 

"You must know what an alliance with Garlemald entails." He could even accept her offer. That would be the end of things, the end of this petty rebellion. 

But somehow, he can't bring himself to do that either. If they truly entered an "alliance" with Garlemald, how long before they begin pushing at the borders once more, as they did with Doma?

She sinks, releasing his hands from hers. There is some peace in the water, the way the world is muffled beneath the surface. She doesn't want to rise up, not even when her lungs begin to burn, but nonetheless, she does. "I'm out of options, then."

Zenos watches her quietly. She's only out of options if she refuses to kill him. He's never seen her like this. Never once entertained the thought that she'd  _ give up. _ "Fight, then," he says.

"Fight who? You?" Her brows furrow. This war may be a grand hunt for him, but for her - for the Scions, there was no option for failure.

They had to fight and claw their way out of this. She had to choose, and she hated it. It was between the Scions, her new family, and him. The last remnant of her past, the only happy memory she has left. "I'm not killing you."

He feels a distant spark of anger - undirected, certainly not directed at her. Not even directed at himself. His hands ball into fists.

"I cannot yield, and you cannot abandon your path," he says. "So it must be what it has always been. A contest of wills. A measure of strength."

"Fine! Just give into fate and duty, and whatever garbage drives you-"

She tries to control her anger the way the Scions taught her, but she  _ hates _ this. It's not fair - it's not right. How many more times must she suffer? How many more people much she lose before she returns to being frightfully alone? Ifritah pulls herself from the water, wringing out her hair. 

The air is still hot from the day, the heat of the sun lingering.

He watches her step out of the pool, wants to stop her but knows there's no remedy to this. Such is the harsh reality - there can be no peace, not while Garlemald yet thirsts. 

He feels the dull, hollow ache again. There's no remedy to that, either - no remedy save for  _ her _ . He'll take great joy in fighting her. Temporary, fleeting, but intoxicating joy. But to kill her would be the worst despair he's ever known. 

"Ifritah," he says, even if he doesn't have more words to follow it.

"I should return to the Scions," her voice is barely above a whisper, her eyes threatening to water and stain her cheeks with tears. "Perhaps it is best we keep our distance to one another, so that... When the time comes..."

_ When the time comes, she'll kill him. _ Of that he is certain. And if, by some miracle, she should die by his hand instead, he'll finish the deed himself - for what purpose can be found in a life devoid of her? No, he wouldn't suffer to merely exist in the cold world that he'd known before this night. He's tasted the wine and it's ruined him forever. 

So he watches her go, watches her slip quietly out of the water, watches the moonlight reflect off of the sheen on her skin.


End file.
